


Marshmallows

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Marshmallows, Snow, Snow Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes being friends with Darren is like being a storm chaser—there are times when it can be gone before you can even start to catch it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marshmallows

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Lee](ccrisscolferr.tumblr.com), for my 25 Days of Ficmas thing. <3

Chris has never been the sort of person to play in the snow very much—probably because he’s never lived somewhere that it snows. Darren won’t hear of it, however, when he finds out.

“It’s a long weekend,” he tells Chris, leaning against the locker next to his, the way he always does. “Your parents would be cool with you going to the mountains with my family.” Darren grins, and Chris knows he’s right. His parents  _love_  Darren and his family, and it’s not like Chris has ever gone away with friends before. His parents will be over the moon when he tells them. “Let a pro show you what snow is all about.”

And Darren had nudged his shoulder and grinned and Chris really couldn’t say no to that.

The Criss family has their own cabin (and Chris rolls his eyes at that), and it’s pretty much just like Chris had imagined. It’s all wood and picturesque, covered in snow and surrounded by large pine trees. Chris isn’t even aware that his face is practically pressed up to the car window, fogging up the glass, until Darren starts laughing.

But it isn’t about the cabin. Chris knows that.

“Put on your snow clothes, because I’m about to change your  _world_ , Chris Colfer,” Darren yells as they enter the cabin, already running up the stairs and disappearing.

“Darren!” His mom scolds as she walks in, and then she puts a warm, gentle hand on Chris’s shoulder. He loves Darren’s mom, probably because her eyes always seem to smile and because she can reprimand Darren without ever really raising her voice. “That boy…” she sighs, and smiles at Chris. “Follow him. You’re okay sharing a room?”

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a room, but Chris still nods timidly, walking up the stairs and following the  _thump-thump-thumping_  that signifies Darren moving around. Chris knows Darren used to share the room with Chuck, but it’s just them and Darren’s parents that weekend (“Otherwise I’d just sleep on the floor. Dude, I can sleep anywhere.”).

Darren’s already pulling on his jacket when Chris walks in, and he raises an impressed eyebrow.

“That was fast…”

“I’m good at getting out of my clothes,” Darren says with a grin, looking up to give Chris a salacious wink (which immediately makes Chris turn scarlet). “Now get dressed and meet me outside in five minutes, soldier.” Darren is tugging on boots and he hurries past him and into the hall, tumbling straight into the wall and then bouncing off without a second thought.

Sometimes being friends with Darren is like being a storm chaser—there are times when it can be gone before you can even start to catch it.

The room is quaint, and it has its own fireplace, and… One bed. Chris swallows, turning away from it and setting his bag on the top of the dresser. One bed. He won’t think about it, or Darren’s convenient lack of mentioning it.

He takes a deep breath, and focuses on getting dressed.

*

“…you look like a marshmallow.”

Chris grabs as much snow as he can off the banister and throws it at Darren—and for once makes a pretty decent shot. But Darren just laughs, shaking his head around so that the snow catches in his curls. It’s annoying how perfect he still manages to look.

“Well you look like a…” Nothing. Chris has nothing. Darren looks completely at home, surrounded by snow drifts. “Shut up.”

Darren laughs, the sound echoing around them, and it’s  _strange_  how quiet it is. Darren skips forward, kicking snow up in white explosions as he does, and then grabs Chris by the hands.

“So I promised you a full crash course in snow. We have three days to make this the most awesome snow day  _ever_.” Darren’s walking backwards, tugging Chris along, and he has  _no_  idea where they’re going, only that each time Darren nearly crashes into a tree, Chris has an anxiety attack. “Where do you want to start? Snowmen? Snowball fight? Sledding? Snow—”

“Darren!”

But Chris’s warning comes a little late. Darren tumbles backwards over a very inconveniently placed boulder and, by extension, pulls Chris over the boulder with him. They land in a heap in the snow, and it doesn’t hurt as much as it would normally, but it isn’t exactly pleasant.

“Well, snow angels it is,” Darren says, and Chris nearly shrieks because it hadn’t occurred to him (yet) that he had landed right on top of Darren. He rolls off, and then lets out a yelp. Because it’s  _snow_ , and it’s cold and wet and seeping through his snow clothes even though they were bought for this very purpose.

“This is horrible,” Chris mumbles, but then Darren is starfishing out, head thrown back in the snow.

“You’re just in shock,” Darren says, turning to look at him. “Stop thinking about it and just… Enjoy it.”

It sounds so easy when Darren says it, but… Well, everything sounds easy when Darren says it. So Chris spreads his limbs, shivering at the cold, but then opens his eyes and doesn’t think about it. It isn’t snowing, but the sky is the bright white it becomes when it’s perfectly clotted with clouds. It’s that blankness that fogs over Chris’s mind, and he’s suddenly somewhere else, far inside his head.

He isn’t even aware of the way he fans his limbs until his fingertips brush against Darren’s and startle him back to reality.

“They’re holding hands.”

When he turns his head, he can see Darren down the length of his arm.

When they stand up, whatever shapes they made look nothing like angels. Chris thinks it looks like some weird, small eyed monster, and him and Darren go back and forth, creating a name (“The Snowgle!” “…really?” “Fuck you, that name is awesome.”) and a story (“It eats snowmen who haven’t been given faces.” “…why—Chris, that’s so fucking sad.”). Then Mrs. Criss is calling them inside, and Chris hadn’t even noticed the sun set.

When he’s with Darren, time doesn’t seem to pass like it normally does.

The cabin looks like something out of a Christmas card, warm light painting gold patches on the snow, and Chris has never felt so much relief to get out of his clothes. They drip as they walk inside, and Darren shakes himself off like a dog, even as his mom drops a towel over his head.

He lets Chris have the shower first, maybe because of how violently he’s trembling, for which Chris is grateful. It’s like thawing himself out, letting the hot water run over his frozen limbs and rinse the cold out of his body.

Maybe it’s the fact that they’re surrounded by snow, or maybe it’s because Darren is trying so hard to make the whole weekend perfect, but Chris feels like he’s in a Christmas special. After dinner, Darren insists they light the fire in their room, and they sit as close as they can to warm their toes and fingers. Mr. Criss brings them hot chocolate and a bag of marshmallows, and warns Darren not to try and roast any of them, prompting a rather entertaining story that has Chris laughing into Darren’s shoulder.

“This is nice,” Chris says later, as he watches Darren roast a marshmallow on the end of a twisted hanger (despite his dad’s instructions).

“Hold out your hands,” Darren responds, and Chris sets his hot cocoa down just to have Darren push the melty, hot fluff into his upturned palms.

“Ah!” Chris blows on it, and Darren laughs. “That was just in the fire, Dare!”

“Then put it in your mouth!”

“That’s what he said,” Chris mutters, and he shoves the marshmallow between his lips even as Darren laughs so hard he doesn’t make any sound. “Is burming my mouff,” Chris says through the chewiness.

“Yeah, but it’s  _delicious_.” Darren pops another one onto the hanger and sets it over the fire again, humming something that sounds vaguely like a Christmas carol as he does so.

“…thanks,” Chris whispers, when he regains the use of his mouth, and Darren tilts his head curiously in his direction. “Just… It’s only been a few hours, and I can’t even remember the last time I’ve…” Chris isn’t sure of the right words. “Had this much fun,” he finishes, lamely.

Darren scoffs.

“Offended. You spend at least half of your time with me, I’m obviously being a shitty best friend.” His eyebrows are furrowed low, as if he honestly might believe what he’s saying.

“No, I… Shut up, Darren.” Chris nudges him, a little harder than necessary, and Darren responds with a, “ _dude_ ,” when he nearly drops the marshmallow into the fire. “You’re the best best friend I could have ever asked for. In fact, I don’t think I… I don’t I ever would have thought to ask for you.”

Darren turns to look at him finally, eyes soft, and then he leans close and sets his head on Chris’s shoulder.

“I think I was asking for you without realizing it.”

Chris doesn’t know what it means, but he closes his eyes and lays his head on Darren’s and accepts it.


End file.
